


I feel like I could do something bad tonight

by bellfort3



Category: Minecraft (Video Game), Sleepy Bois Inc, Video Blogging RPF, mcyt, sbi - Fandom
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Anxiety, Anxious Wilbur Soot, Depressed Wilbur Soot, Depression, Happy Ending, Hurt Wilbur Soot, IRL Fic, Other, Self Harm, Self harm trigger, So much angst, TommyInnit - Freeform, Wilbur Soot - Freeform, Wilbur Soot Angst, Wilbur Soot Needs a Hug, Wilbur and Tommy are brothers, dont interact if you have this trigger, mcyt - Freeform, mentions of self harm, read the tags, sbi, stay safe, tommy helps wilbur, tommy saves wilbur, trigger wearning
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-14
Updated: 2021-02-14
Packaged: 2021-03-13 14:41:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,662
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29403549
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bellfort3/pseuds/bellfort3
Summary: /TW/ mentions of self-harm-PLEASE READ THE TAGS AND STAY SAFEWilbur hadn't felt this way in a long time. It was bubbling up inside of him, taking up all the space in his body until he was fighting for air. He tried to get rid of it, tried to scratch it from his skin like an itch or rub it from his nose like a sneeze but it wouldn't budge. When that didn’t work, he resorted to grabbing at his hair and pulling, like if he pulled hard enough he could pull the feeling out by its roots. Again that failed, and Wilbur found himself rocking back and forth on his bed, gripping at his arms and trying to stop himself from letting his fingernails dig too far into the skin of his forearms.In hindsight, it was foolish to think he could’ve gotten rid of it so easily, so harmlessly.
Relationships: No Romantic Relationship(s), No shipping - Relationship, platonic - Relationship
Comments: 23
Kudos: 292





	I feel like I could do something bad tonight

**Author's Note:**

> Everyone: *expecting me to release my low blood pressure!tommy oneshot*
> 
> Me: *drops the shades* You thought, motherfuckers. 
> 
> Take this intense angst while I continue working on the low blood pressure!tommy oneshot. Thanks:)

_ I feel like I could do something bad tonight. _

Wilbur hadn’t felt this way since...well, since the first time. Both the first and the last time. The feeling was faint, the memory nothing more than a blurry haze in the back of his mind, but it was a feeling he would never forget. It was kind of like that feeling you got right when you were about to throw-up? Or have a nosebleed? It was recognizable. 

Wilbur didn’t know how to explain it other than he felt like he was  _ overflowing.  _ He was overflowing with this crude and horrid emotion that made his fists clench and his toes curl. It was bubbling up inside of him like bile, sloshing and churning sickeningly as it searched for some sort of way out of his body. 

_ I feel like I might do something bad tonight.  _

Wilbur tried to get rid of it, tried to scratch it from his skin like an itch or rub it from his nose like a sneeze but it just wouldn’t budge. When that didn’t work, he resorted to grabbing at his hair and pulling, like if he pulled hard enough he could pull the feeling out by its roots. Again that failed, and Wilbur found himself rocking back and forth on his bed, gripping at his arms and trying to stop himself from letting his fingernails dig too far into the skin of his forearms. 

In hindsight, it was foolish to think he could’ve gotten rid of it so easily, so  _ harmlessly.  _

_ I feel like I might have to do something bad tonight.  _

Wilbur reached into the deepest, darkest crevices of his mind, clawing at the one memory that he had buried so deeply for the sole reason of him never finding it again. And here he was, searching for it willingly. 

Kneeling over himself on the bed, shaking too hard with something like nervous energy to stay upright, the faintest image of himself in college flashed before his eyes. 

_Wilbur was slumped forward in his seat on the edge of the bathtub in his parent's house, elbows balanced on his knees and palms splayed out before him. He felt..._ bad _._ _Soon, Wilbur would learn a more mature term for the feeling, but for now, he knew he felt bad. He felt bad and he wanted to get rid of it. It felt like he’d tried everything but nothing seemed to work. He’d taken his dad’s advice and gone for a run, even if it felt more like flailing about on his terribly unathletic legs. He’d taken his mom’s advice and stayed home from school that day, listening to her and trying to take the day for himself, to not worry about anything, to_ relax. _Neither worked, nor did taking a hot shower followed by a short nap, his favorite meal ordered from_ Subway, _and...whatever the fuck he had just done in his bedroom._ _Fists clenched, toes curled, every muscle in his body tensed as he screwed his eyes shut and just_ rocked _. Rocked like a mother would a crying infant. Rocked like an overwhelmed child on their first day of school._ How pathetic. 

_ As he had said before, Wilbur didn’t know a whole lot about what was going on, just that he felt bad and that he needed to get rid of that feeling  _ now _. He’d been carrying it around with him for days now and he couldn’t do it anymore. He needed to feel good again. No, not even good, just less of whatever the hell this was.  _

_ Wilbur was a bright kid. He got good grades in school and knew the basic laws of nature so what did he do? He applied them. If he couldn’t get rid of the feeling  _ metaphorically _ , he could get rid of it  _ physically _. Or try to, at least. Again, he didn’t really know what he was doing.  _

_ The blade sat in his left palm, glinting as the fluorescent bathroom lights from above hit it just so. He had gotten it from the cabinet behind the mirror, from a box that held his dad’s spare facial razors for when the one that he was currently using got too dull. It had looked so innocent then, stood up neatly in that little cardboard box, and it still looked so innocent now.  _

_ Wilbur slipped the blade between his thumb and index finger, bringing it up to his face so that he could properly examine it. He knew the edge was sharp-it had to be for it to cut such scruffy facial hair-but it didn’t look as daunting as say, holding a brand new kitchen knife that was bigger than his head. If anything, it looked tantalizing.  _

_ Wilbur didn’t stop to think about how incriminating that thought was before he ripped the blade across the lush skin of his right upper forearm.  _

_ Wilbur’s initial reaction to the sting of his skin being torn open and blood streaming down his arm was shock. His second reaction was pain as the rush of adrenaline wore off and he was able to feel the cut. And his third and final reaction was panic as the realization of what he had just done set in.  _

_ Wilbur dropped the razor as if it had burned him, the small piece of metal hitting the tiled floor with nothing more than a muffled clink and a tiny blood splatter. The blood from the cut he had made was properly gushing now, multiple trails of the tacky, scarlet liquid streaming down his forearm.  _

_ Breathing through the mixture of pain and panic that he was feeling, Wilbur lunged forward and snatched a wad of toilet paper off the roll, balling it up and pressing it against the wound. As it quickly started to seep through with blood, the teen wondered if he had fucked it-if he had cut too deeply.  _

_ Wilbur had fucked it.  _

The memory was slipping through his fingers now, but he didn’t mind. Wilbur would rather not remember the rest of that memory anyhow. It was painful, perhaps even more painful than the injury itself, and filled with blinding lights, worried expressions, and hushed questions that he hadn’t had the answer to at the time. 

Staring at his reflection in the bathroom mirror, he had the answers now. 

It had been five years, five _fucking_ years _ , _ since the original incident, yet standing in front of the sink now, fingers trembling as he brought his hand up to the mirror and the medicine cabinet behind it, it felt like Wilbur was experiencing it all again for the first time. 

Staring at his razor on the other side of the mirror, Wilbur felt faint. Just three days ago he had used it to shave away the scruff that had started to grow on the underside of his chin...was he really about to use it to cut open his skin now?

_ I think I am going to do something bad tonight.  _

Part of Wilbur, the logical part of him that was usually there to talk him down away from the edge, was scarily silent. The other part of him, a younger, more desperate, and tortured part of him could be heard perfectly clear in the heavy absence of the other part. 

_ I am going to do something bad tonight.  _

Even if the first time had been...even if nothing had come of the first time, Wilbur couldn’t deny the  _ release _ that he had felt. Through all the pain and the panic, hadn’t cutting temporarily made the bad feelings go away? Hadn’t the slice in his arm acted as an exit? 

What Wilbur needed right now was an exit. 

Shaking like a leaf in the wind, Wilbur reached up and pulled the razor down from the shelf. His hands were trembling so violently that he fumbled with the razor multiple times whilst trying to extract the blade from the tool. But once he was holding the cool piece of metal between his fingers, he was suddenly as steady as a surgeon about to operate. 

Wilbur rolled up the sleeve of his right arm. When his eyes landed on the scar that still marked his skin from his episode five years ago, it started to tingle as if it knew that it would soon no longer be alone, that it would no longer be the sole reminder of Wilbur’s past hurtings. It was only a matter of time before he had a mark to remind him of his present hurtings too. 

Wilbur was angling to razor horizontally across his skin, below the scar that was already there, when his phone started aggressively vibrating in his pocket. That gave the brunette pause. He hesitated, the blade just barely hovering over the surface of his skin as he waited for his phone to stop ringing. It did, just for it to start ringing again. 

Grumbling under his breath, Wilbur set the razor blade down on the sink and dug his phone out of his pocket. It had started ringing for a third time, the caller obviously not giving up until Wilbur picked up. Turning the phone over in his palm, Wilbur couldn’t even pretend to be surprised when he saw TommyInnit’s gremlin-like face lighting up his screen. 

It wasn’t terribly late-inching towards 11 pm-but still a bit odd for Tommy to be contacting him at all. He had gotten the notification that Tommy had gone live about two hours ago, and based on that and Tommy’s usual schedule, the teen should have crashed by now. 

Wilbur glanced from the phone in his hand down to the razor still sat on the sink then back to his phone. It would be so easy to just  _ deny _ the call so that he could go back to the task at hand but he knew Tommy wouldn’t leave him alone until he answered if the fact that he was now calling for a fourth time was anything to go by. Maybe if he just answered and told Tommy he was busy he would go and bother someone else…

“Hel-”

_ “WILBUR!” _

Wilbur winced, pulling the phone away from his ear in order to salvage his eardrum. “Oi, Tommy.”

_ “Sorry, sorry, I wasn’t expecting you to pick up! You were ignoring me,”  _ Tommy defended quickly, tired voice strung up an octave. 

Wilbur scoffed. “I wasn’t ignoring you! I was in the middle of something.”

_ “Oh,” _ Tommy sounded taken aback.  _ “I thought you were just chilling and shit.” _

“No...no,” Wilbur sighed, a heavyweight settling on his chest. 

_ “What were you doing, then?” _

Panic seized inside of Wilbur and his eyes snapped back to the blade perched innocently on the edge of the sink. It felt like it was staring at him, daring him, mocking him. 

_ Yeah, Wilbur, what  _ were _ you doing? What were you so busy with that couldn’t answer Tommy until he called for the fourth time? Tommy’s asking because he thought you were ignoring him so what are you going to say?  _

“Uh,” Wilbur turned his attention back to Tommy while still keeping an eye trained on the razor as if he were afraid that it was going to up and bite him. “I was...uh, I was cooking?” He cringed as soon as the words left his lips. It wasn’t that he was a bad liar, it was just that he couldn’t lie to  _ certain people. _ That group of people included TommyInnit, surprisingly enough. 

On the other end of the line, Tommy laughed awkwardly. “You were cooking?” He repeated back at him, somewhat disbelieving. It was obvious that he had seen right through Wilbur’s lie and that he wasn’t going to have it. 

“Yes! Yes, I was,” Wilbur snapped. “Why don’t you believe me?”

“Because you can’t cook anything besides pasta without burning it.”

“Shut the fuck up, gremlin child.”

Tommy laughed fully now, as boisterous and obnoxious as it was on-stream. “Okay, I’m going to just ignore the fact that you’re lying because you may have been watching porn for all I know-”

“I was not watching porn!”

“-but I was calling because I wanted to ask if you had watched my stream tonight? The beginning had been a little rocky but I thought it was a good bit and I just wanted your opinion on it.”

Wilbur blinked. “That’s why you had called me?”

“Yeah,” Tommy didn’t sound embarrassed at all, even if Wilbur’s tone implied that he should be. “I don’t know if I should make a YouTube video out of it or not.”

Wilbur ran a hand down his tired face, sighing exasperatedly into the phone. “No,” he muttered. “No, I haven’t watched your stream yet.”

Tommy gasped in mock-offense, showing a wild display of energy despite the circumstances. “Do you not have my notifications on? Oh, you bitch-”

“I do, I do,” Wilbur cut in, and he found himself walking out of the bathroom and back into his bedroom. He plopped himself down in his gaming chair, gripping the edge of the desk and pulling himself forward so that he could reach out and turn on his middle monitor. “I got the notification, I was just busy.”

“Busy cooking? Or watching porn?”

Wilbur couldn’t help the laugh that bubbled up inside of him as his computer finished powering on and he navigated over to Twitch, clicking on Tommy’s account. “Shut up, child,” he joked, earning a guffaw from the younger. “You shouldn’t even know what porn is.”

“Wilbur, must I remind you that I’ve been watching jschlatt for years now?”

“...point taken.”

Wilbur pulled up the archive from Tommy’s stream from earlier. He stayed on the phone with the teen and they watched through the video together, Tommy pointing out both the parts that he liked and the parts that he didn’t while Wilbur offered him his thoughts. By the end of it, Wilbur’s stomach hurt from laughing so hard and Tommy was slurring his words together in exhaustion. 

They ended up getting off of the phone just after 1 am, Tommy bidding Wilbur goodnight after staying up way past his bedtime. Wilbur decided to follow his lead, not thinking as he listened to his body and let his feet drag him into bed. He kept his phone nearby, just in case Tommy tried to call him again for whatever reason, and promptly fell asleep in his day clothes. 

Over the course of those two hours, Wilbur had completely forgotten about the razor blade still sat on his sink. In the morning, he would see it and remember the events of the night before. He’d remember the fist-clenching, the toe-curling, the hair-pulling, the rocking, but most of all the  _ almost _ . But it had stayed an  _ almost,  _ had it not? Yes, Tommy had called him and he had gone to bed right after, the bad feelings chased away if only for the remainder of the night. 

Collecting all of the razors in the bathroom and depositing them in the trash (he could deal with a little bit of scruff until things got better), Wilbur took a moment to breathe. He grasped the sides of the sink, raising his head and making eye contact with himself in the mirror. He breathed through the weight that sat heavily on his chest, through the anxiety that grappled at his insides, through the pain that plagued his entire body. He breathed slowly, in and out, until his lungs felt clean and holy and it no longer felt like a chore to open up his diaphragm. He breathed, relishing in the feeling of being alive for the first time in way too long. 

_ In and out. _

_ In and out. _

_ In and out. _

Wilbur smiled at his reflection, triumph and victory breaking through his hard demeanor. He hefted the trash bag over his shoulder, planning on taking it out immediately, and resolved to give Tommy a ring when he came back inside. 

  
  


_ I didn’t do something bad last night.  _

**Author's Note:**

> Again, please stay safe and remember that someone out there loves you! I'm always here if you need to talk:)
> 
> Tumblr: bellfort3


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